


Anonymous

by Arvalee Knight (AvaWhiteRaven), AvaWhiteRaven



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual Sex, F/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5077429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaWhiteRaven/pseuds/Arvalee%20Knight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaWhiteRaven/pseuds/AvaWhiteRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You grew up on the streets of London, learning how to fight in order to survive. You eventually served the tyranical leader of the Blighters before later working for the Templars, killing and extorting whoever they pointed a finger at. But this time, you're faced with taking down a highly skilled target that might not be so easily killed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You had slunk back into the house just as guiltily as you had slunk out of it, damp mist and soot clinging to your hair and clothes, blood staining your hands. You tried to work your way through the house to the washroom undetected, to clean away the evidence from your nightly hunt. Another name, another target, another person to beat into submission.

But she had been waiting up for you, pacing about the base of the stairs just in front of the door. She must have noticed your absence sometime during the night, arms folded over her chest and her lips twisted into a frown. She shot you a sharp glare, ready to berate you with her long practiced speech.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "I already know what you're going to say. Save it for the morning, Elizabeth."

"Why should I?" Her voice was sweet, a small bird trying to shout like an eagle. Even her frame was small and bony, her lack of food so evident in her figure. She probably gave her half-eaten bowl to one of the urchins. "You'll be gone by morning, anyhow!"

You whispered harshly, "Keep your voice down, Beth. You'll wake the kids."

She huffed and threw her hands into the air. But she gave up on being angry when you passed by the small lantern on the table. She took down a sharp gasp, curling her small hands into fists. "What are you going to tell the children when they see that?"

You ducked your head away. You knew she was talking about the swelling bruise, the searing heat that burned across the side of your face. You stepped past her into the washroom and began the tedious task of cleaning away the blood. "Nothing. They don't need to know."

Elizabeth had followed close behind like a bickering and overprotective mother. "Let me at least take a look at it. I'll see if it needs some cleaning."

"Beth." You raised a hand at her, pausing what protests were about to rise.

"You can't keep doing this. I can't keep doing this."

"You know that my work is the only thing keeping this house safe. If I stopped working for the Blighters... those kids upstairs would be dead. You would be dead." You dipped your hands into the cold water, bittersweet against your burning hands.

Elizabeth stepped back and dropped her head into her hand. "I know that. You're like my sister. I can't stand the idea that you might not come home one night." She stood up taller, marching the short distance to your side. "What will we do then? What if you die out there?"

You flicked the water off of your hands and ran the rest through your hair, raking out the tangles and smoothing the wilder strands. "I won't."

"Katie is still missing," she muttered.

"I promised you I'd find her. And I will." You pressed her hands flat into the table, glowering down at the darkened water.

"That was months ago." She wrapped her arms around herself, swaying between one foot and the next. "For all we know she's dead."

"She's not." You faced her, desperate to calm her back down. "Listen to me, Beth. I have kept this place safe, have I not? Just as I promised I would. No one has stepped foot in here since I've moved in. And no one will. And Katie will come home soon. London is a large city--"

"It is large," she retorted. "How are you to find one person?"

You stepped towards her, staring her down. "I'm good at what I do."

"And someone's bound to be better." Beth snatched up a rag and wetted it. "There's talk... The kids haven't stopped talking about it." She reached up and pressed a damp corner against the blackening bruise around your eye and cheekbone.

You'd heard similar talk. A man was rallying together a gang, calling them the Rooks and causing trouble throughout London. He'd already claimed Whitechapel as his own which of course set a fire beneath the feet of the Blighters. But you didn't work for the Blighters. Not in the same sense that Elizabeth thought.

You worked for the person in charge of the Blighters, the man who pulled the strings throughout each borough. And you did as he asked without question. Because the power that he held could easily be used to kill Elizabeth and all of the urchins under her care. Because that power was already being used to keep Katie as prisoner.

You rolled your eyes shut. Katie was taken because you questioned orders. And she was being kept to remind you to stay in line. You never quite had the heart to tell Beth, not after she took you in and fed you, gave you a job at the pub.

The floorboard in the hallway creaked. You moved around Beth and stalked out of the washroom, noting the weight of the dagger at your hip. You hesitated as you rounded the corner, tension melting when you looked into the wide eyes of Sam, the smallest of the children.

"You're home," he said, smile widening at the sight of you. They rarely got to see you, not with all of the trouble arising in the city.

"Off to bed." You kneeled down, looking at him squarely. "You need rest for tomorrow."

"But I have to tell you!" His eyes jolted between you and Beth, sparks of excitement as he bounced on the balls of his feet. "About what happened today. Jacob Frye. He came into the factory. Killed the Blighters. It was brilliant! It happened so quickly and then... we got to come home."

You narrowed your eyes. "The Blighters took you?"

"They said we couldn't go home. Not until we were done working for them." Sam rubbed his hands together, fumbling with them until you could catches glimpses of the small cuts and scrapes. "But, Mister Frye came in and let us go. Just like that."

"When did they take you?" You clasped his shoulders, tried to be gentle with his smaller form. "Did they take you from here?"

Sam shook his head, attention bobbing off to Beth. "No... I was out..."

You gave a long sigh. "It's dangerous out there on your own." You stood up and scooped Sam into your arms. "Come now. Off to bed. We both have a long day tomorrow and your stories can wait."

His voice grew quieter, "I wish you'd been there."

"I know, sweet one." You carried his weight up the stairs, not bothering to look at Elizabeth. You knew her expression already. The thought that one of the kids could have died out there... Elizabeth worried herself until ragged. She cared too much, her heart too big. But then, that had always been your reason for protecting her. She had taken in what children that she could and defended them bravely although pathetically.

You shuffled quietly into the bedroom, scattered with the children's makeshift beds. You gently placed Sam down and helped him get back beneath the thin, threadbare blanket. You patted his head, ruffling the short and messy strands.

He was still quiet, more out of worry than anything, "Did someone hurt you?"

You smiled sweetly, making sure it was believable. "Of course not. I was just clumsy. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and ran into something."

He didn't believe you. He was too worldly, a loss of innocence that opened his eyes to the truth. "Will you be here in the morning?"

You tilted your head away, glancing across the many sleeping children. "I don't know. The next time I'm home... we will talk about that story of yours."

Sam closed his eyes but something in his expression told you that he didn't believe that either. It was true that you weren't home very often. You were working the pub, keeping the place running and the coin coming, when you weren't chasing down your next target. After dealing with all that nonsense, you had little energy to spare.

You slipped out of the bedroom quietly and sauntered down the steps. You shuffled into the living room and fell backwards onto the couch. You laid down and threw an arm over your eyes. "Being angry isn't going to fix this," you murmured at her, knowing that she hadn't left for bed just yet.

"What about this Jacob Frye person?" Her shoes clomped against the floorboards as she paced the small expanse of the room. "If he helped the kids then..."

"Hush now." You shifted on the couch but didn't bother removing your arm. "He's no different than the rest. He has in own agenda. Just as they all do.

"He is helping. Ask Clara. She came here and--"

"Clara? Did Clara also tell you he's in charge of his own gang." You shifted, wanting to sink further into the couch. "If I side with him I'll end up bloodied and bruised just as often."

"Fine. You want to live this way then go ahead." She stomped forward then forced herself to stop. "But I want no part of it anymore. I can't keep living this way, terrified if you'll ever come back. Just... don't. Don't come back anymore." Beth was quiet, frozen as if she wanted you to plead with her.

"I understand." Your brows were pinched but your arm his most of your expression. She couldn't have known that Katie was taken because of you. Or that you'd sworn your life to the Blighters' leader to keep them at bay. If you had told her that... it would have felt manipulative, it would have guilted her into so many emotions.

She turned and left the room, furiously making her way to the other side of the house where her bed was. She closed her door shut behind her but you could still hear the heavy sigh.

You let your arm fall away. Truthfully, it did not matter whether or not Jacob Frye was a good person. He did not hold the life of your loved ones in his hands. Starrick did. The people in his control did. And you would serve them so long as it kept them alive.

You slept on the couch and left for the pub early in the morning like usual. But by the time you reached its doors there was a carriage waiting for you. The driver's hands were tucked behind his back until you approached. He opened the door, motioning you inside with a cheeky grin. "Boss wants to speak with you."

You crawled inside, sitting down rather stiffly. "I hadn't expected to see you so soon."

He gave a shrug of his shoulder and slammed the door shut.

It was routine almost. The long and dreary drive to the office, the escorts who led you up the stairs to where he sat rather proudly at his desk. He rolled his eyes up at you, paper scattered beneath his fingers. "Jacob Frye." His tone was bordering on furious as he returned his attention to his work.

You sat down in the chair across from him, pressed your back into its hard cushion. "I've heard of him..."

"You will eliminate him." He tapped his fingers against one of the papers, perusing over its details. "Starrick does not see him as a threat. Not yet. But I do. I want him gone."

You weren't surprised his name was coming up again. You were only surprised it took them so long. A part of you was even disappointed about it. He had saved some of the kids and many others if the stories were true. But you needed to keep Katie alive.

Katie. Beth was still worried sick about her. And it had been months.

You shifted your weight in the chair, tossing it over onto a shoulder. "I want Katherine returned home."

He folded his arms across the desk, chin a bit higher than usual. "You have failed me before. What reason would I have to give her back to you now?"

"You took her because I failed you." You narrowed your eyes, watching as he did the same. "You assured me that my loyalty would release her. It's been months."

He leaned back in his chair, shoulders pressed flat and hands curled over the chair's arms. "How could I release her knowing Jacob Frye was causing me such trouble? His death would put less pressure on me and thus less pressure on you."

You clenched your teeth. "Another one of your lies. You told me that same story weeks ago."

He lifted a weak-hearted shoulder. "I was going to release her but... Well, Frye has made things difficult. I can't have my best running off when I need her most."

"How do I know you're not just going to come up with some other reason for keeping her?" You had to hold onto the notion that Katie was still alive. You hadn't seen her for some time. They hadn't allowed you to get too close to her. It had been a brief glimpse but it had been enough to keep you tethered to their cause.

"Kill your target and you will have your reward." He leaned forward and ruffled through some of the letters.

"No." Your heart leapt to utter the words aloud. "I want her released beforehand."

He flicked his attention up at you, a rage crossing over his expression. "Do not forget who holds her life. If you want my cooperation then I want your cooperation."

You leaned forward, a sudden burst of bitterness on your tongue. "Do not forget that I could kill you just as easily as I have killed others."

He laughed abruptly, tossing a hand out towards the men scattered about the room. Two posted at the door, one in the corner to your right and one to your left. "I dare you to try, my dear. The moment you reach for a weapon they will be upon you."

Your voice lowered, irritated and strained, "There will come a time when your brutish thugs aren't around to keep you safe." You reached out gingerly, a smile pressed thinly across your lips. "Give me all the information you have. I'll track him down and end him."

"He is no common thug." He handed over the folded papers, tightening his grasp when you tried to take them between your fingers. "Bare in mind that he is trained to kill just as you are."

You jerked the papers out of his grasp. "You make sure Katherine is home before I return from my mission. Or else your name will be the next one on my list." You stood up sharply, the men about the room flinching in preparation. But you turned and marched towards the door, the two men wavering in their post.

They took too long to move and you were too angry to care about their lives. You snagged hold of your daggers from your belt and speared the metal into their necks. You couldn't kill the man you really wanted but you could certainly cripple his guard. You jerked out the daggers just as easily as you had thrusted them in.

"Oi!" One of the brutes yelled his protests as you swaggered towards the stairs.

"Let her go," he ordered. "She will get me what I want."

You stepped out of the building, the carriage driver waiting by for his next task.

You pulled out the papers, reading over what little information there was. Jacob and Evie Frye, twins who were both incredibly skilled and also very good at rallying together desperate souls. Their efforts had made quite the difference, helping to rally up criminals as well as release children from working in factories.

"Miss?" He raised a brow at you, eager to get to work.

"I won't be needing your help this evening, Jonathan." You stuffed the papers securely into your waistcoat. "I think I might prefer the train instead."


	2. Chapter 2

You posted yourself on the northern side of Southwark and waited with vigilant anticipation. The sun had set long ago, taking with it what little heat it had bothered to provide on the cloudy afternoon. A sea of endless gray covered the skies, blocking out any signs of a moon and stars. The air smelled of musky smog and damp earth, a bitter note that clung to your senses.

You had been sitting in the cold for what felt like an eternity, the autumn air settling down into the center of your bones. Autumn was a strangely beautiful season, making death look like an art, bursting the landscape in orange and red hues.

You listened as another train passed without your intended target on board. You looked over the papers again, memorizing his features until you could see them with your eyes closed. He was only two decades old but he was already making quite the impact. His twin sister, Evie, was also making a name for herself and it would be wise to eliminate them both if possible.

You desperately hoped they were all asleep and you could give the twins a quick and painless end. You wanted nothing more than for the nightmare to finally be behind you. Perhaps the moment it was over and Katie was released, you could leave London once and for all. You could settle down in some small farm town and pretend none of it ever happened, live a simple and uneventful life.

You stuffed the papers back into your waistcoat and stared out over at the dilapidated homes that lined the train tracks. Another train was nearing. You rolled your eyes closed, listening to the grinding and groaning of the large train.

You looked over its front end, noting its distinct appearance, and lifted up onto the balls of your feet. This was it, your last chance at redeeming yourself and freeing Katie from the Templars. Even if they didn't release her you had to try. And if push came to shove, you would kill everyone who stood in your way to returning her home. You owed her that much. You owed Beth even more.

You perched on the edge of the metal structure, looking down upon the train as it was passing under. You leapt down upon it and rolled, muffling the noise as best you could in timing with the loud scream of the train's whistle. You steadied yourself back onto your feet, cringing at the harsh cold. It seemed even worse on the back of the train, the chilly winds passing through the thin layers of your attire, simple cloth and leather.

You stealthily worked your way across the massive serpentine structure, steadying yourself whenever it would jolt. You kneeled down on the next cart and peered into the window, finding your target asleep on the couch. You stalked over towards the front of the cart and dropped down in a hushed thump.

You glanced about for any curious eyes, taking down a deep and slow breath to prepare yourself. You were going to take another life, adding another name to a long list of names. Jacob Frye, you guilted to yourself. His name was Jacob Frye. But this didn't stop you as you pulled the dagger from your belt. You stalked through the small cart, taking in its details as quickly as possible.

Your eyes caught sight of a large board on the wall across from the couch, filled with names and details of their crimes. He was aiming high with plans to eliminate the people in power, the very people who abused that power, including your employer. This Jacob Frye, this upstart had rescued Sam and the others from the Blighters. He risked his life to help a bunch of kids. He was tearing down London's corruption one borough at a time. And here you were about to take his life.

You looked over your shoulder at him, at the hat resting messily on the top of his head. The sketch didn't quite do him justice. He looked less of a criminal and more like a lost puppy in need of a home. His clothes told a different story, leather and metal strapped onto his shoulder and arm. He was armed and just as ready to kill as you were.

He was not innocent, you told yourself, convinced meagerly.

You had to take his life. It was kill him or die doing so, those were the only options. You couldn't go back without his death. They would kill Katie. They would kill Beth, too. They would find some way to twist your arm into doing it for them. They couldn't get their own hands dirty, of course, so you had to do it.

You felt the dagger's smooth hilt in your hand and stepped towards him. You leaned over his sleeping form and pulled the blade back, harboring all of your strength in your arm and shoulder for the difficult task but...

You clenched your teeth. You couldn't do this. How could you do this? What if his plans succeeded? What if he was able to take back London from those who were destroying it? You groaned at yourself and turned away from him. You felt your chest swell with bursts of emotions, hatred and regret that bloomed in your tight throat.

"I'm a bit disappointed." His tone was bordering on humor, a lilt of playfulness. "You came all this way to see me and you aren't even going to say hello."

You had to do this. He had already seen you. He knew you were there to kill him.

You lunged around, dagger aimed precisely where you needed it, but Jacob was just as skilled as you assumed. He was able to dodge the attack and sweep his leg outwards, knocking your feet out from beneath you. But you were just as skilled, snapping hold of his jacket and dragging him down with you, his weight falling heavily upon you. You rapidly threw him onto his back, your form rolling on top of him to get the upper hand.

You swept the dagger towards his throat while he regained his bearings. But he expertly deflected the attack with his arm, the metal of your blade hitting the metal of his gauntlet. The action stunned you long enough for him to twist the dagger out of your hand and fling it across the floor. His attention was distracted which gave you the opportunity to throw your first punch, your knuckles blistering against his cheekbone.

He grunted and shoved you off of him, sending you tumbling across the small open space of the cart, the train jolting as it sped along. His fingers gripped firmly onto your shoulder and slammed your back against the floor. He used his body to keep you in place. He threw his fist back and for the slightest second you thought he was going to take a hard swing. But his hand jolted open, a blade flicking out of his gauntlet.

You could have made another effort to avoid his attack, to twist underneath him and ram your knee into his stomach. But you didn't. You couldn't. Or perhaps, in all honesty, you were too weary to even try. Perhaps, you wanted his plan to succeed. And your death would free Beth as well as Katie. Beth had made it clear that she was finished with your late night brawls, that she didn’t want your problems spilling into her home.

So, when the blade thrusted towards your throat you didn't flinch. You lifted your chin in hopes to give him a clean swipe, to end your life as painlessly as possible.

His eyes locked with yours, the metal halting just before piercing skin. He was quiet while he examined your expression for some sort of clue. He knew what you were doing. He understand you had allowed him to make the perfect strike.

He grinned. "You're not even going to try, then?"

If he wasn't going to kill you outright then you'd have to force him into it. "Kill me. Or I kill you." You rammed your fist into his jaw, the hard bone splintering your knuckles.

He groaned and grappled with you for control, using his weight to pin your hands down between your heated bodies. "Now, let's talk about this, shall we? You seemed more keen to die than to kill."

You squirmed underneath him, your mild rage diffusing into remorse. "You hardly seem the kind of man for words, Frye."

He gave a sly smirk, loosening his grip on your hands, but swaying his weight just enough so that it enveloped you. "Well, I do prefer to be a man of action..."

You grounded your teeth while jerking your hands away from him. "I tried to kill you and you're making jokes?"

"Well tried really is the main point here, isn't it?" He was letting his guard down, a hand resting against the floor near your head. He rolled his weight to one shoulder, a haughty smirk on his mouth. "Mind telling me now exactly why you wanted me to kill you?"

You seethed, wrangling with your instinctual need to fight. "Because I don't want to kill you."

He tossed his head, that unwavering grin of his widening. "Yes, you've certainly made that clear."

"There's no other way. One of us is going to die." You didn’t know how else to be clear with him. How else could you explain that his death was the only thing keeping another alive.

"Ah, here's an idea." He brought his head a bit closer, eyes never leaving your own. "How about we both walk away and pretend there wasn't a scuffle at all?"

"You don't get it, do you?" You weren't sure if you wanted to laugh at him or cry. "Your actions have caused ripples that you can't even see. If I step off this train alive without having killed you... they'll take everyone I love."

He took his time replying but his wistful tone remained, "Well, I suppose you aren't going to be stepping off this train for some time then."

You narrowed your eyes. That was it, then? He was just going to end your life, quickly and cleanly? Could you honestly die for a man who would be so eager to take your life?

"Jacob! Seriously?" She was shocked as she sauntered forward with her arms leisurely crossed. Evie, if the dossier had been correct, looked a tad bit peeved at the two of you tangled before her. "On the floor? Did you not consider I might walk through here and see?"

He excused with the same touch of humor, "She was trying to kill me."

"Find a pub next--What?" Her stance changed, switching from annoyed sister into a practiced hunter. “Then what are you doing flirting with her, Jacob? I swear...”

His attention was focused on her alone, forgetting that you were a trained killer. "Evie, hold on now. We just--"

You twisted your torso, angling your elbow and thrusting it towards his cheek, giving you ample time to spring free from his hold. You leapt forward, racing to the edge of the cart and into the next. You were forced to skid to a stop half way through the cart. You hadn't expected their to be Rooks on the train. Awake Rooks for that matter, their attention reeling towards you. They had been peacefully sitting down together, drinking and chatting until you interrupted.

Jacob was at your heels, palms raised to both you and his men. "Easy, now. Easy." He swallowed his pulse. "You said they'd kill your loved ones if you leave here alive?"

You snatched hold of the second dagger from your belt, readying yourself for the tedious fight. You’d take on more men than the few before you but… Jacob was an unknown factor. He was more skilled than a simple street thug.

"You don't exactly have to leave here. We can find another way..." He was shifting from one foot to the next, slowly side stepping to get your attention. "We'll make them think you're dead. At least until they're no longer a threat."

You swept your gaze to him, glowering at his peaceful stance. You remembered Sam's enthusiasm at Jacob saving his life. You remembered the large board littered with plans to release London from its darkened hold. You didn't have much of a choice. Killing Jacob would do more harm than good and... you were tired of causing harm to others. Beth's disappointed expression had been the last straw.

"You want me to spend the rest of my life hiding on a train?" You threw him a scowl, your eyes burrowing into his.

But Jacob was unwavered, the same cockiness in his tone, "Not the entirety of your life..."

You shoved the dagger back into its sheath. You softened your anger as best you could. “Alright... I’m listening.”

Jacob gave a light hearted laugh, relieved that things had went so smoothly. He stepped back, motioning at you to follow him back into the other cart. "My sister and I can help you. I'm an expert on--"

"Causing a scene," Evie added with a smirk.

Jacob tossed her a brotherly and bitter glance, "Give me some credit, Evie."

She stood tall, her eyes taking in your clothes and weapons. "Explain to me why you're letting your would be killer walk around the train?"

"She's going to help us," he added all too delighted while tossing you a wink.

You gave a breathy and shocked laugh. "Help you? From here?"

He excitedly blurted, "Out there!" He tried to press his hand into your back but you shifted away, too nervous and too uncertain to trust him just yet. "We're going to have to get you new clothes... hide your face but... you're going to help us stop the person who threatened you. Maxwell Roth."

You snorted. "Maxwell Roth? You think he's the one who hired me?"

“He’s the leader of the blighters, isn’t he?” Jacob looked over your outfit which did in fact hold their colors, if not somewhat morphed to suit your Templar loyalties. His eyes lingered in certain places and he was highly aware that you were aware.

Evie seemed suddenly interested, taking a few steps forward. "Then who exactly hired you?" She was becoming far less annoyed by the second and in fact seemed rather concerned for you.

"People who call themselves Templars..." You paced away from them, a sudden sickness blooming in your stomach. The idea that they might know about your betrayal, that they might realize you were pretending to be dead. "They work for a man named Starrick."

"Yes. We are aware." Evie folded her arms and leaned back against the desk near the cart door.

“That's why we're here.” Jacob's energy hadn't waned, an excited and eager child. "We're going to liberate London."

You chuckled under your breath, a rusty and rare laugh, even your own ears twitching at the sound of it. You couldn't remember the last time you had laughed about something. And it was certainly something to laugh at. If any man had told you he was going to liberate London you would have killed him to save him from humiliation. But the way Jacob had said it... you almost believed him.

You finally gave them both your full attention, squaring your shoulders and keeping your head high. "Let's say I believe you... How will we convince them that you killed me?"

"Templars hired you, you said?" Jacob walked over to the board and looked over its surface.

Evie shoved off of the desk and swayed between her feet. "Then perhaps we should take down one of their leaders. We allow one to live in order to send back news that their assassination failed."

"Warn them not to send another." He chuckled, tossing Evie a smirk. "To think they tried to assassinate an Assassin."

She groaned and focused on you. "Once they realize you've been killed, you should probably leave London."

You shuffled over towards the couch and sat down, hunched over and fumbling with your fingers. "I can't leave. They took my friend's little sister, Katherine. They're holding her hostage to make sure I don't... disobey."

"Then we find this Katherine and get her back," Jacob told you plainly, as if it were so easily done.

"They are supposed to release her after this mission..." You leaned back, your body aching to be rid of its tension but these strangers made you nervous, no matter their kind words. "They've said it many times before but if I'm dead then... I was hoping they'd finally let her go. They would have no need to keep her if I'm dead."

Evie stepped forward, her expression distorted with worry, "Where would Katherine go if they were to release her?"

"Home." You tossed your attention between Jacob and Evie. "I can't go there and check... Not if the Templars need to think I'm dead."

"Then we go for you," Jacob eagerly offered, his boots banging against the floor as he stomped towards the exit.

Evie gave a resolute sigh. "You didn't even ask where she lived."

Jacob spun on his heel. "I was going to… allow you to find out that sort of thing."

Her brows rose in disbelief.

You clasped your hands together, squeezing them until you thought the thin bones might break. "They won't let her go. Not until they're certain this mission was a success." Your threat earlier that day hadn't been empty but he certainly hadn't been all that frightened, either.

Jacob grinned all too pleased about something as he looked over at Evie. "Let's raise a bit of hell for them then, shall we, sister?"

Evie smiled back at him then gave you a quick nod. "Stay here until we return."

You gave a slow nod in agreement and watched the twins vanish from sight. You were too tired, emotionally and physically, to get up from the couch. You quietly laid down on your side and waited. Whatever happened outside of the train was no longer in your control and giving up control was never all that easy for you. But you didn’t have any choice. Not anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You leave with Jacob to seek out information about what's happened after your "death" and a few... "pleasant" memories arise

You must have fallen asleep, or rather, daydreamed about all of the terrible events that were happening outside of the train. You conjured every possible scenario into mind. You considered what they would do to Beth. But worst of all, and it seemed more likely, you considered the plausible option that they would take all of the orphans and leave Beth to suffer without them.

And where would you be while all this happened? On a train.

You dug your fingers into the hard couch, bitter about not being able to do something. You were safe and oblivious to the world outside of the small cart. And this was where you were cursed to remain because if you ran out there and checked on the little misfit family, you would endanger them even more.

Boots landed hard against the metal grate outside the door. You sat up, hand reaching for your dagger. Your mind jumped to “Templar” but it was only Jacob, walking rather cockily into the cart, a smug git if you ever saw one.

You glowered impatiently, watching as he swept up one of the glasses from a table, knocking back the amber liquid in a quick gulp. “Well?”

“Glorious.” He grinned cheekily and set the glass down. “Should’ve been there. I used this little darling here.” He turned the bracer on his arm and pointed to the grappling hook that was secured into place. “Swept in there and took out their leader before they even knew it happened. Sent the rest scurrying.” He pretended to aim the gauntlet towards the door as if he were reliving the moment.

You rolled your eyes, feeling them strain from stress. “Did they get the message?”

“Message?” He jolted with remembrance. “Oh, yes. Yes. Of course.” He began to grin again, still delighted with memories of the event. “God, I love London. One can never bore of it. Far better than Crawley.”

You stood up quickly and marched for the door. “I need to check.”

“Wait, now, hold on.” Jacob hooked an arm around your waist and tried to guide you away from the exit. “You can’t just go about and ruin our plan, now can you? I’ll go and see if they’re safe.”

You looked at him squarely. “No, I need to see with my own eyes. I need to know for certain if Katie is still alive.”

“Alright.” Jacob tossed his hands up then chuckle with the spark of an idea. “You’ll just have to toss on one of Evie’s outfits. She won’t mind you taking her old one. It’s barely holding together, anyhow.”

You raised a brow at him. Something in his words told you that Evie would most definitely mind you taking one of her outfits. But his idea was the only valid one. It would only be for a quick trip, just to check up on Beth and to see if Katie actually made it back home like the Templars promised.

You donned the attire as quickly as possible. You weren’t sure why but you felt exposed getting undressed and redressed on a moving train with a man waiting restlessly outside the door. You could hear his boots pacing even over the deafening sounds of the train’s engine. You snatched up a weathered piece of cloth from the closet, tying it around your neck for a makeshift mask before heaving open the cart door.

“Finally.” Jacob flashed you a glance that screamed impatience. “Shall we be off then?”

You stalked forward, following him through the various carts to the end of the train where Jacob resupplied with a shop merchant. Jacob even tossed a few items into your arms before jumping off rather clumsily, feet staggering as he regained balance.

You glowered into his back, furious at yourself for having been put in a situation where leaping off a moving locomotives was a casual expectancy. Jacob must have been used to it. He was already striding down the tracks and leaping over the side rails to the thin strip of grass below.

You jumped down, boots gritting across the gravel, your knees aching at the suddenness of the action. You secured Jacob’s supplies into the pouches along your belt. You cautiously glanced about and pulled the makeshift scarf securely over your face. Rooks, Blighters… You knew that drunk men often babbled and greedy men sold secrets. It made no difference where you were. If the Templars bribed them or tortured them, they would sell you out in a heartbeat. You weren’t even sure if you could trust the Frye twins but you had little room to negotiate.

Jacob gave a whistle and threw a hand into the air, catching the attention of a pair of Rooks who were lounging around. “Find us a carriage, would you boys?”

You easily jumped over the rails and joined Jacob on his slow path along the road. After some time the two Rooks returned with a carriage, handing it over to their boss without trouble. They even gave him a brotherly pat on the back before heading off to find their own sort of mischief.

Jacob sat down in the driver seat rather gingerly and motioned to the spot beside him. “Come on then.”

You raised a brow at him, eyeing the finely carved metal that intricately decorated the vehicle. It wasn’t the finest carriage you’d ever seen but it sure as hell hadn’t been cheap. “And whose carriage is this?”

He tossed a hand towards where the Rooks had driven it away from. “I’m sure it belongs to that poor bugger who’s running at us. Mind you, he might want it back.”

You threw your gaze at the man, thin and lanky, as he raced down the road. He didn’t look like he could hold his weight against either Jacob or you so you weren’t too frightened. But he would cause a scene and you didn’t exactly want the attention of others.

You climbed up and sat down stiffly, glowering over the horses towards the cobblestone.

“So.” He rattled the reins a bit, just enough to get the horses going before tossing you a cheeky grin. “Where to, my lady?”

You swept your eyes over his features, glimpsing just enough of his expression, then focused on the road. “Whitechapel.”

“Whitechapel?” He raised a brow. “That was the first place I liberated.”

You huffed at his arrogance. “You stopped a bunch of thugs. I told you I don’t work for them. Not anymore, anyway. I work for the Templars and they still hold that place.” They held everything, you grimaced. And with a squeeze of their hand, they could destroy everything.

“You worked for the Blighters before then?” Jacob shifted in his seat, slouching as the horses casually trotted along. “What changed?”

You clutched your hands together, strangling them as the memories washed over you. It had been a difficult life, one filled with violence and anger. It wasn’t that you were a violent person. But if you didn’t act violent, if you didn’t kill or brawl, you were treated as weak. And the weak didn’t survive for much long on the streets. To be honest, it had just been a way of life. You hadn’t thought there was another way.

Jacob pressed his shoulder into yours, drawing your attention back.

You flexed your fingers, feeling them creak and pop, blood rush back into them. “My Mentor found me and he… liked my skills. He said I would be of better use serving the Templars. And I didn’t mind actually. I had felt proud to serve them for some time...”

Jacob almost sounded shocked, “Felt proud to be a Templar?”

You focused on the bruises along your knuckles, the scars that littered them. “Elizabeth found me dying in an alley after a mission. I’d killed my target but in doing so fatally wounded myself. She nursed me back to health. She asked for nothing in return. I’m not sure when it happened but… Remorse, guilt, exhaustion...”

He spoke slowly, realizing what you meant, “You wanted out. And I’m sure the Templars didn’t take kindly to that.” He leaned forward, a quick glance at your expression. “Did you ever meet the ‘Grand Master’ himself?” He spoke the title with a mocking tone, clearly giving away that he didn’t much care for it.

You muttered the man’s name, a sickness settling in you, “Starrick.” You gave a slow nod. “Regretfully.”

Jacob sat a bit straighter, as if he noticed the sudden change in your body language, and he kept quiet during the ride. He was being polite in keeping his questions to himself but it really only gave you time to remember that specific meeting with Starrick.

You weren’t sure why, perhaps you wanted Jacob to understand but you explained to him in detail the meeting that had cost Katherine her freedom and Elizabeth her sister. It was that day when you truly understood what working for the Templars really meant.

~:~

You stood in the center of his office, a soldier standing tall and unflinching. When your mentor had called you to the home of the Grand Master you hadn’t thought it would be so… Well, you rolled your eyes down to the lifeless corpse nearby. One of the servants, you considered. And he looked rather fresh for a dead person so it must have occurred seconds before your arrival. It must also have been a common occurrence because very few seemed flustered by the matter.

Starrick’s home was grandiose and extravagant. There were more halls in it than all the alleys you’d slept in combined. You could have probably put all the Blighters throughout London in there and still have space enough for all the drunks at every tavern in Whitechapel.

“Your mentor has spoken highly of your skills.” He rounded his desk, finally bothering to give you his attention. His eyes, black and voidless, fell on you and an unsettling shiver ran down your spine. But he smiled politely and it was nearly convincing had you not been trained to pick up on such faux expressions. “May I offer you some tea? Perhaps, coffee?” He waved the only servant in the room over towards a small desk against the wall, glinting silver pots and cups posted on an extravagant tray.

You flitted your gaze between him and his servant, fearful what harm your reply might inflict on the poor man. “I am honored, Grand Master, but truly I need nothing.”

His brow rose, a tilt of his head before waving the servant out of the room. “David recommended you, did you know? He has stated that you are the finest of his proteges.”

You raised your chin a bit, trying to look confident beneath his scrutiny. “Because it is true, Master Starrick.”

“I do not doubt his words at all. You are highly skilled. You are the first to rise so quickly in our ranks and the first to complete every job without a single mistake.” He was moving closer, each step slow and agile, the way a large cat steps towards its meager prey. “Explain to me then why you failed to kill your last target.”

You found yourself stepping back into a sofa table, your spine curving into sharp edge. You held your breath as his hands landed ghostly onto your shoulders. “He paid me his debts. I gave that money to your--”

He struck forward, as quick as a viper, his hand snapping hold of your chin. His anger burned hotly against your face as he yelled, “He has left London!” Starrick leaned closer, his eyes level with your own and his breath searing your skin. “With valuable information. It was not his debt that I wanted. It was his life.” He pressed his forehead hard against yours and the bones of his fingers dug deeper, desperate to crack bone.

You muttered it, his lips centimeters from yours. “I did not know.”

His voice seemed to soften, however, somehow sounding even darker than before. His gaze lowered to your lips, mesmerised by them. “This is not the first time you have failed me. As of late, you seem to have forgotten the oath you took when you joined us.” His hand loosened its hold, caressing down your neck, halting long enough to gently squeeze. As if he were considering strangling you, his actions town between seduction and murder.

The double doors to the office were pushed open, your mentor halting mid-step, his gaze sweeping between the two of you before settling on Starrick. “I apologise for interrupting. I only just arrived. I was cleaning up a mess in--”

“Yes, I am aware.” Starrick gawked at him before returning his attention to you. He leaned forward again, words soft but very much an order, “You will not fail me.”

You made sure your voice was even, that you sounded serious because you dreaded letting your mentor see you afraid. “I won’t fail you.”

Starrick’s lips pulled into a sweet smile, one that was well practiced. “I am most certain of it.” There was something about the way he said it or perhaps the way his eyes glinted but there was a sinister twist beneath those words. He stepped back rather kindly, his composure easily falling back into place. “Forgive me, madam, for having been so uncivil with you.” His curled fingers brushed downwards across your arm. “I shall hope our next meeting is more productive.”

You didn’t dare turn away from him, not until his attention shifted to your mentor. You watched David stalk confidently into the room, his hands behind his back. You stared at him with desperation because your mistake might cost him. No, your mistake would definitely cost him.

Your mentor’s gaze fell on you, heavy and cold, shrouding you with his irritation and disappointment. “We shall speak outside.”

You left the room without an ounce of hesitation. You couldn’t afford to hesitate. Your mentor couldn’t afford you to hesitate. The doors clicked shut behind you, an ominous echo flowing through the quiet mansion. You waited, your ears straining for even the slightest of noise from the room.

And then you heard it, Starrick’s anger unleashed as his voice growled, “You assured me she was your best! You assured me she would not fail! She disobeyed my orders. My orders! So, either you have lied to me or your protege is a traitor.”

Your mentor was level, calm even, but his words were harshly spat, “She is the best.”

“Evidently not!” Something must have been thrown, glass shattering and clattering.

“She has grown some sort of conscience.” Your mentor spoke just as harshly, just as bitterly, as if he knew you were listening. “She’s been living with a whore and her urchins being filled with ideas of compassion.”

“Compassion?” His tone bristled with fury. “Are you to tell me that my greatest killer has become compassionate because of an orphanage?”

Your mentor replied plainly, “It will be dealt with.”

Starrick was calm again. He spoke smoothly, an underlying darkness beneath the serenity, “Be certain that it is. Because if she fails me again, it will not only be her loved ones that suffer but your family as well.”

“I shall ensure her loyalty.” The double doors behind you opened, your mentor marching past. “With me.”

You followed in line behind him, silently keeping up with his quick pace towards the carriage posted outside. “Forgive me.”

He turned sharply on his heel, the full brunt of his fist striking across your face. He snatched hold of the lapels of your jacket, his words spat through clenched teeth, “I vouched for you! I plucked you off the streets and gave you a better life!”

You grimaced, lips pulled taut. You rolled your eyes shut, the blooming heat spilling across cheek and jaw. “I know.”

“This isn’t a game. You don’t get to decide who lives. He does.” He shook you fiercely, fingers strangling your jacket. “I will not stick my neck out for you if my wife and children’s lives are on the line.”

“I’m sorry,” you hissed it. “I didn’t know this would happen.”

“I warned you long ago to never cross them.” His hold loosened and his anger softened. He ducked his head away as a hand shoved roughly into his hair. You couldn’t determine if it was guilt or sorrow but he couldn’t look at you anymore. “You made this choice. Do not hate me for the consequence.”

Your eyes widened. “What does that even mean?”

He put his back to you and climbed up onto the carriage. He gathered the reins into his hands and without even giving you a glance he started down the road.

“Wait… David.” You stumbled forward, brows diving together. “What does that mean?”


	4. Chapter 4

Jacob left the carriage some distance away from the orphanage. He followed silently behind you but you knew he was giddy with anticipation. He was nearly jittery with the idea of an upcoming fight. As if he’d gladly hunt someone down to get answers for Katherine’s whereabouts just for the mere thrill of it.

You slipped into an alleyway and climbed up the backside of a building across the street from the orphanage. You stalked over the rooftop, hands falling flat against the icy shingles. You watched with vigilant determination, noting the carriage parked outside, desperate for some sign of Katherine’s return. You were even more desperate to see if Beth and the children were still alive and well. The possible backlash of the Templars was nearly strangling you.

Jacob kneeled down beside you, just as watchful. He spoke with a melodical lilt, “And who’s this bloke? Another Templar?”

You focused on the front door and the man that stepped out. Yes, Templar, you agreed. And you recognized his features. “David,” you muttered halfheartedly. “If there’s word of my death then he must be searching for me.”

Jacob gave a delighted hum. “Then why don’t we go down there and ask him. Shall we?”

You snapped hold of his elbow, tugging him to a stop. “Wait. He’s my mentor. Please. Don’t kill him. Templar or not… he did take care of me.”

He smirked, the word rolling off his tongue rather haughtily, “Promise.” Something in his expression, the glint of his eye or the curl of his lips, told you he was honest if not playful with the idea.

Jacob rushed forward to the edge of the roof and made the reckless leap onto the back of a passing carriage. You followed after him as quickly as you could, leaping from the carriage and further to the back of David’s just as the man was grabbing the reins.

Jacob’s arm hooked around David’s neck and jerked him to the ground below.

Your body tensed, your hand rising to reassure yourself that the scarf hid away your face. You leapt down to the ground, looking more like an imposing bodyguard by the second. You forced yourself to remain neutral as Jacob pulled your mentor up onto his knees.

“Hello there, Templar. That is what you are, isn’t it?” He never once lost his confidence as he clutched onto David’s jacket. “Should’ve known I’d find one of you here at the home of that tit who tried to kill me.”

David’s lips grimaced, his face distorting with a marriage of anger and anguish. “Smug bastard. Where is she?”

“She tried to kill me.” He tossed his head rather cockily. “Dead, of course. Don’t worry though, I made sure she died slow. Told me a bit about your little operation. Talkative under torture that one.”

You shot Jacob a fierce glare but it was too late. David lunged forward and knocked him onto his back. Before their could be any serious damage done, you grappled David from behind, pressing the cold metal of a dagger at his throat as a warning. He struggled for a moment longer, low growls deep in his throat as Jacob got to his feet just as self-satisfied as ever.

Jacob fixed his hat back onto his head. “I didn’t realize you Templars cared so much about each other. Here I was under the impression you all had ice for blood.”

David spat at him. “The moment I get you alone, I will sink a blade into your back.”

He swaggered forward, held his gaze firm on the man. “What were you doing here? Giving your condolences to the orphans? Maybe twisting their arms to work in your factories?”

“I was searching for my friend,” he growled, flustered with another bout of rage. “But now that she’s dead, I’ll settle on getting revenge instead.”

You had to keep your emotions in check. He was your mentor, your friend, but to save himself and everyone else you had to be dead. This was for the best, you reminded, but the pang in your chest didn't soften in the slightest.

“Friend?” Jacob flicked his attention to you, the corner of his mouth rising. “The way I hear it, you were extorting her. People around here have… whispered to me about a missing girl.”

David stilled a bit but his fury still coated his words, “Burn in hell, Frye. You don’t understand the true game you’re trying to play.”

“Still, I wonder where that missing girl is.” Jacob’s tone darkened as he closed the space between him and David. “Did you kill her when she was no longer of value? Perhaps you killed everyone in the orphanage too while you were at it.”

“Katherine,” David hissed. “If she’s not dead now, she will be.”

Your hold on him tightened but you forced yourself to be calm. You clenched your jaws, glowering at Jacob in hopes he’d ask the right questions.

Jacob flicked his attention from you to David. “Where is she now?”

“I’ve not the slightest idea. I’ve never known where they hid her.” David sounded calmer but you knew him too well. He was always a master at hiding himself behind a well placed visage. He had taught you everything. He had lifted you out of the gutter and cleaned you up. “Kill me, Assassin. Or let me go.”

Jacob stepped back then spun away. “Some other time, perhaps. Not much into killing today.” He flicked a finger at you to follow, not bothering to look to see if you would.

You shoved David towards his carriage, glowered at him as he watched Jacob waltz off. The front door of the house clattered open and you spun around, watching Beth as she marched down the walkway with Katherine tucked beneath her arms. She lifted her heated gaze only long enough for your breath to cease.

Beth took a sharp turn down the sidewalk, leading her younger sister towards someone who could provide her with help. Katherine looked thin and pale, wasting away after months of being abused but she was alive. And she would continue to live.

You'd been so enraptured that you had forgot about David and Jacob. Your mentor grabbed furiously to your shoulder and forced you to face him. He jerked away the scarf, hissing, “So it is you! Fucking traitor!”

You shoved him away from you but stepped forward with determination. “My death was the only way and you know it!”

Jacob was at your side, posting himself between the two of you with a pronounced smirk. “Well, now that the air is clear, perhaps we should all talk. Drinks, anyone?”

“I will forget this meeting. I will pretend I didn't see you.” David grimaced, his staggered gaze jolting about the surrounding area. “But the moment you make yourself known and the Templars send me to knock on your door, I shall not hesitate to kill you.” He stepped up into the driver's seat and gave you only the briefest of glances before sending the horses into a trot.

“Some friend,” Jacob jeered with a grin just before heading off down the sidewalk.

You marched forward, quickening your pace until you could grab his shoulder and shove him around to face you. “What was that? Did you really have to goad him? He was my mentor. I told you that.”

Jacob’s expression softened only a little, the edges of it still touched with humor. “I kept my promise. He’s alive, isn’t he? And now the Templars think you’re dead. Or rather… we hope they keep thinking you're dead. If David’s as good on his word as he says he is.”

You groaned and shoved your face into your hand, grimacing with the turn of events.

“Let’s go and get ourselves besotted, shall we?” Jacob wrapped an arm around your shoulder, dragging you off down the sidewalk. “I think I saw a pub earlier. And I am a bit parched after all that interrogating.”

Your shoulder tensed beneath his arm and he must have felt it because his hold fell away. “Katherine is safe for now. Elizabeth, too. But for how long?”

He stopped and waited for you to look at him. “Such a worrier. If the Templars wanted to hurt them they’d have done it already.” He tilted his head and dropped all humor, just long enough to whisper, “For now, there’s nothing else for us to do but relax and drink.”

You let a brow rise irritably. “You mean I relax and watch you drink.”

He scoffed. “Come now, don’t tell me you’re not going to join me.”

“I’m supposed to be dead.” You swept your attention up and down the street. “I can’t walk into a pub and start casually drinking.”

“I see no reason not to.” Jacob swept his arm around your waist and pulled you with him once more. “Come now, love. You’re in Rook territory. You can drink and keep…” He pointed a wavering finger at your scarf. “...whatever that is over your face.”

You all but huffed, tossing him a fierce glower. “Rooks will sell me out just as fast as a Blighter. They’re no different from each other.” Except their clothes, you humored. And their leaders. Jacob, if he could even be considered such, was the better of the two leaders. But either way, a street thug was still a street thug.

Jacob didn’t bother to argue though. Perhaps he agreed with you and had no reason to argue but he pulled you down the street all the same, leading you towards the closest pub and not bothering to get the carriage. It wasn’t his carriage to begin with you supposed. You had to admit though, the warmth of the pub was all too delightful, chasing off the autumn chill that had seeped into your clothes.

Jacob dropped into the closest chair and motioned a hand towards the one next to him. “You have to at least share one drink with me.” His crooked and mischievous grin grew ever the wider and you knew no matter what you said he was going to get you one.

You sat down and grouched all the same, “If we’re both drunk, what use would we be in a fight?”

“Fighting who?” He leaned forward, arms lounging across the table. “This is all mine. Those blokes over there…” He nudged his chin towards the Rooks scattered about the room before tossing his gaze back to you. “If there does happen to be a fight, for whatever odd reason, they’ll be at our backs.”

“Your back,” you corrected. You pulled the hood further down over your features, hoping it would be enough to obscure anyone’s view of you.

He gave a heavy annoyed sigh then got to his feet. “I’m getting us a pint. You’re going to celebrate with me.”

You stared into his empty chair and considered the events that had occurred. David knew you were alive. He had risked everything for you and instead of being loyal you betrayed him for Beth. But, they had both risked their lives for you. They had both pulled you out of fires, set you down on your feet… Being dead was the only way to keep them both from getting hurt.

Jacob slammed two large mugs onto the table, foam sloshing out as he took the seat adjacent to you. He placed his hand over the top of your drink and pushed it towards you. “The finest Whitechapel has to offer.”

You huffed and cocked your head. “You haven’t gotten around if you think this is the best.”

His lips pulled wide into a toothy smile. “Why, don’t tell me you’ve actually taken some time out of your busy schedule to enjoy a drink or two?”

You lifted the tankard and brought the lukewarm liquid to your lips, smelling the harshness of the drink. “I wasn’t always a Templar, remember?” You chuckled slightly. “Beth owns a pub. Had me work the place. She has the finest in Whitechapel.”

“Is it now?” Jacob finished enjoying his deep swallows before setting the drink back down. “Course, you’re rather bias about it though.”

“I suppose I am.” You smiled weakly, taking another swallow, this time a long and more satisfying one. “As bias about ale as you are about your Rooks.”

Jacob was shoving his empty tankard aside and slouching back in his chair when he tossed you a cheeky grin. He settled his attention on you, the dim light of the pub allowing you to take in the earthy hues of his eyes, a mixture of faded greens dusted with brown shades. “My Rooks are no different than you and I. They’re just trying to survive this life and have fun while doing it.”

You leaned towards him and said lowly, “You really think they won’t betray you if it's their life against yours?”

He shot back just as cockily and just as proud, “It’s all of us working together or none of us at all.” He sat up rather quickly and patted a hand into your shoulder. “Trust me, joining the Rooks will be the best decision you ever made.”

You glared endlessly when he left to make his way back over to the bar, ordering another round of drinks. You clenched your teeth, feeling them ache until he returned. “I’m not joining the Rooks. I’m not joining anyone.”

He set down your drink then took his seat again. “You’re leaving London then? Leaving your Beth and Katie all alone? Letting the Templars have their city, that it?”

“Beth and Katie,” you hissed, “can leave London and start their life elsewhere.”

Jacob tapped his finger against the tankard. “You’ve met Starrick, you said so yourself. You think he’s the kind of man to take only London? Or do you think he might want the whole damn world?”

You narrowed your gaze at him, letting the notion sink into the center of your bones. You lifted the drink and took down a harsh swallow, feeling it sizzle down your throat. You set the drink back down and took your time before nodding. “Alright. Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say Starrick plans on spreading his influence…”

“He is, love.” Jacob slouched in his chair again, resting that same giddy gaze on you. “He’s searching for an ancient item. He finds it then the world will be his. You can ask Evie for the details. She’s into that sort of crock. Her and Greenie both.”

“Greenie?” You narrowed a glare. “What’s a Greenie?”

He gave a groan, obviously not pleased about it, “Her best mate these days.”

You leaned onto the table, hunched over as you considered the strangeness of Jacob’s words. It didn’t really matter what Starrick was looking for. It didn’t really matter if he was looking for the door to Hell. The only thing you cared about was keeping safe the people you owed something to.

You looked at Jacob from beneath the rim of your hood. “How do we stop him?”

“First.” He held up his drink and threw back the last of it. “We’re going to get as smashed as this pub’ll allow.”

You grimaced, suddenly questioning whether or not if Jacob really could take down Starrick. You brought your mug to your lips and drank as much as you could in one go. It truly was an awful brew but it wasn’t the worst. God, you’d had worse.

“There we are.” He laughed a heart warming sound and squeezed hold of your shoulder. “Finally getting into the spirit of things.”

You shoved the empty tin mug at him. “Shut up and get us another round, Frye.”

You couldn’t do much else but agree with him. Katherine and Elizabeth were together again and the orphans were somewhat safe from the Blighters. The Rooks would, in some sense, keep the unruly gang away from the orphanage. You couldn’t roost outside the place forever. You could, however, get completely drunk and find a way to help them leave the city in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

You couldn’t remember much of what had occurred last night. There had been lots of drinking, that much you knew, and there may have been a few brawls dispersed throughout the night. You weren’t sure if Jacob started them or if you’d unwittingly done so but there had definitely been a good fight or two. You think there might have been a broken window involved somewhere along the way.

After leaving the pub, events were rather a blur. You couldn’t remember what was said. And you certainly couldn’t remember if you were supporting Jacob as he walked or if he was supporting you. Somehow, the two of you staggered your way through Whitechapel, a pair of drunken loons doing everything in your ability to make fools of yourselves.

That… That was the last you could remember. You couldn’t remember how you got to the room you were in, an unfamiliar room that was brightly decorated. In fact, too bright if you had anything to say about it. Just looking at the oranges and yellows caused your skull to split and your eyes to cringe away.

You were also uncertain how you managed to sleep on the hard, thin couch with Jacob Frye’s full weight on top of you. He seemed to have slept undisturbed, his breath still soft and you knew that because it tickled wistfully over your neck. His body rested heavily between your thighs which made it impossible to shift out from under him.

“Frye,” you mumbled, giving his shoulder a good shake. You groaned because the sudden gesture sparked another sharp burst of pain across your head. “Wake up, Frye.”

He moaned sleepily and for a moment you thought he might wake. However, he only seemed to bury himself further against you, his arms snaking around you, curving your back off of the couch. His hips seemed the worst of it, grinding hard over bones and skin, sparking a heat across your face.

“Frye, get up. Someone might walk in on us.” You shoved him and tossed your gaze about the room as best you could. Nothing really looked all that familiar but you recognized expensive when you saw it. “I don’t even know where the hell we are.”

Jacob gave a bitter groan and lifted his head. He managed to pull an arm from underneath you and smash a hand into his face, rubbing harshly the grogginess off of his features. “What’s this…” His hand fell away as he took in your expression but he didn’t seem all that surprised to see you. “Oh. What’s all this yelling about, little sparrow?”

You bit your lip, trying to process your sudden arousal as well as the title Jacob used. He had called you that last night, you think, after some drunken debate about the strange title for his gang. You squirmed beneath him, trying to get free but the movement unintentionally rubbed your front half across his, knotting a defensive tension in your gut.

He sat up despite his hands sliding down your sides, stopping casually on your thighs. He looked amusedly at his open shirt and unbuttoned waistcoat, his jacket tossed on the floor some distance away.

You pulled your eyes from Jacob’s chest to your own attire, thankful that it was mostly still put together. Your jacket was gone and so were your belts but everything else had been untouched. Whatever the two of you had been foolishly planning didn’t quite happen for whatever reason last night.

He looked about the room just as you had done earlier. “Looks like we stopped by and paid Greenie a little visit last night.”

“Evie’s best mate?” You sat up and nursed your pounding migraine in your hand.

Jacob rolled his eyes to you and gave a bitter groan. He didn’t seem pleased about something and you were guessing it was your words. He got to his feet and adjusted his shirt and waistcoat.

“Blast,” you hissed with clenched eyes. “My head is killing me.”

Jacob’s chuckle sent your heart swooning, your breath tangling. “Well, you did manage to drink more than the rest of us, little sparrow.”

You narrowed your eyes up at him.

He gave a crooked and sly grin as he waltzed over towards his jacket. He snapped it up off the floor before nudging his chin towards the living room door. “I believe those are yours out there.”

You could have curled up and died but you got to your feet and shuffled towards the door. You didn’t want to make your hangover worse by moving too quickly. “This is your fault.”

Jacob grabbed your things from the floor and handed them over a little too arrogantly. “My fault? You’re the tot who started a drinking game with the Rooks.”

You shimmied stiffly into the jacket then took the belt. You gave a regretted sigh. “That sounds about right…” You looked about the area and noticed it was a store’s entrance of some sort. It was too bright outside to be early morning. Either that or your eyes were overly sensitive.

Jacob moved back into the living room, making his way through the home to a kitchen. He shouted with childish delight, “Greenie! Aren’t you a sight for an early morning.”

You trailed behind him. Your instincts told you to be cautious but the ale that clung to your senses seemed to scramble those trained reflexes.

“Morning?” His words were sweet sounding, somewhat softly spoken, and as he said more you noted the accent. “It is afternoon at best. Evening if I am to be honest.”

Jacob’s brows jolted as he peered over at you, an incredulous look of guilt. “Ah, Greenie, I've always wanted to sleepover at your place for a change. Mine is a bit… noisy.”

He seemed a bit aghast with the situation but turned his attention towards you, masking whatever disdain he had. “I am Henry Green, a friend of the Frye twins. Might I inquire who you are?” Henry moved about the small kitchen space, pouring drinks into cups and passing them out rather calmly.

Your scarf had been pulled down so your features were there for him to see. You couldn't hide that from him but honestly you'd never seen him before. So he couldn't possibly report you to the Templars. And if he was an ally to the Fryes then he surely could be mildly trusted. But no, you thought it best to lie.

Jacob, however, already blurted, “She's a Templar. Or rather, she was.” His hand pressed between your shoulder blades, a tension running down your spine as he waved a hand from you to Henry. “Greenie’s one of us.”

Henry looked a bit mortified. “Templar?”

“Recently retired,” jeered Frye all the more eager to make a joke of the situation. “Dead if we’re being truthful about it.”

Henry seemed to groan a bit, fingers pressing firmly into his skull. “So, I see. Is Evie aware of this? Does she know you’re--”

“Yes, yes.” Jacob waved it away before taking the closest seat and snapping up whatever drink was offered to him. He took a large swallow without consideration then choked on a gasp.

You glared at him before finally sitting down as well. “I imagine Frye doesn't crash into your home during the night very often then?” You took the cup in hand, a dark looking brew made creamy white by the milk.

Henry’s brows were high on his forehead as he lifted his cup. “No he does not, typically.”

“Just a late night visit,” excused Jacob as he pushed the drink away from him.

You breathed the aroma of the drink. It was unfamiliar, a marriage of sweetness and spice. You sipped carefully, taking in the various flavors that prickled across your tongue. “I apologise for the… Intrusion.” You took another delightful sip as Jacob tossed you his narrowed gaze of disgust. You raised a challenging brow, taking delight in the drink.

“Intrusion?” Henry nearly chuckled but he seemed more embarrassed than comical. “It is not often that I walk into my own home and find people kissing on my couch.”

Jacob’s head jolted, a glance down at his clothes, remembering that he had to button everything back up. The corner of his mouth tugged into a crooked grin when he looked at you. “You snogged me.”

You gasped, suddenly rigid with the idea. “I was drunk.”

He still held that ridiculous smirk, his eyes roving down your figure to settle teasingly on your eyes. “Admit it, little sparrow. You liked it.”

You tossed your attention towards the other side of the kitchen. “I don't even remember it.”

He gave a distinct laugh, sweet and delectable as melting chocolate. “My shirt was undone.”

“You could have done that on your own.” You threw yourself back in your chair, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “And passed out on top of me.”

He leaned forward and pointed a finger. “Your jacket was tossed.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because I was warm.”

“From snogging me.” He gave the flash of a wink.

“I was drunk!” You felt your shoulders rise in protest because the worst part was that you were slowly beginning to remember bits of last night. It had, in fact, been you who started the kissing, the tugging of his hair...

Henry cleared his throat, clattering his cup down onto its saucer. “If you're both quite done… I am certain Evie would like to know you're still alive.”

Jacob’s brows arched beneath nonchalance. “If she needs me, she'll come looking.” He threw an arm over the back of his chair. “Besides, Greenie, we came here for a reason.”

He seemed genuinely surprised. “Other than the use of my couch?”

You watched Jacob through your lashes, still flustered about the events from last night.

“Our little sparrow here needs to help a few people leave London.” Jacob swept his attention to you before focusing back on Henry. “They can't know she's alive though.”

“How many people do we need moved?”

Jacob lifted a wry shoulder. “Two ladies and a dozen or so orphans?”

Henry pressed his fingers to his skull, massaging circles into the bone. “That is more than a few, Jacob. I shall look into the matter and see what sort of plan we can come up with.”

“I knew we could count on you, Greenie.” Jacob stood up quickly with a wink. “Now, I’ve an appointment to keep.”

You threw him a quick look. “Appointment?”

“Shall we, sparrow?” He flourished his arm, motioning you to follow after him as he moved through the small home.

You gave Henry a meager nod before chasing after the haughty man. “What sort of appointment? And why am I tagging along?”

His brow jolted and you couldn't determine if his surprise was genuine or not. “Don’t tell me you’re not eager to get back out there. A little havoc for the Templars or maybe even just a street brawl.”

You gave a slight groan as you stepped out onto Whitechapel’s broken cobblestone streets. “Honestly, not really, no. I’m supposed to be dead.”

Jacob turned to you, both hands tugging at the scarf around your neck. “That’s why you have this. And last I checked, if we don’t stop the Templars--”

“Okay.” You shoved his hands away. “Fine. Who are we meeting?”

He gave an incredulous smirk. “A business woman. She’s going to be our ticket to putting a damper on the railroad operations around here.”


End file.
